


move

by soulofme



Series: sheith sentence prompts [19]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, actually this whole damn thing is dirty lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 22:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15398805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “Tell you what,” Shiro says, scooting his stool closer. “We’ll let the coin decide. Heads, I walk away and leave you alone.”Keith drums his fingers on the counter, considering it. “And tails?”"You’re mine for the night."





	move

**Author's Note:**

> sentence prompt #29 and #63: "but i don't want to leave." and "you're so cute!"

“Hey, watch out!”

Keith narrowly avoids getting a faceful of sweaty drunk. He twists away from the stranger, ignoring his high-pitched—and frankly obnoxious—laughter.

He doesn’t know how Lance managed to convince him to come to the club, or even how Pidge and Hunk went along with him without protest. Keith honestly should’ve been more suspicious over the fact that the three had managed to do something without arguing, but he’d been too bewildered by the situation to really think about it.

And now he’s here, doing the two-step in a dingy club while Lance twirls around him.

“C’mon, Keith,” Lance all but whines, grabbing both of Keith’s wrists and tugging hard. “You’re not even trying!”

“I don’t dance,” Keith hisses, grunting when Lance forces him into a turn.

“I know, I know,” Lance groans, rolling his eyes, “You don’t dance, you hate crowds, and you fucking  _hate_  club music. I got it. You’ve only said it six times since we got here.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’ll finally stick,” Keith fires back. Not his best comeback, but it’s all he’s got now.

“You need to loosen up,” Lance says seriously, swaying them gently. It matches the slow, pounding beat of the song. “It’s my birthday and I want you to have fun.”

Keith falters at that, stifling a sigh. Lance had made a huge deal about finally being able to secure a spot at the club. Even though it looks like absolute shit on the inside, it’s apparently impossible to get onto the “list”. Keith had only been half-listening when Lance had spilled his woes.

But it means a lot to Lance (somehow), so Keith isn’t going to spoil it.

“I am having fun,” he says.

It’s a lie, clearly. Lance squints at him before he jerks his chin over Keith’s shoulder.

“There’s a bar over there, if you’re interested.”

Keith nearly moans. “Thank God.”

He untangles himself from Lance and weaves through the crowd, ignoring Lance's irritated shout from behind him. He uses his elbows more than once to push people aside, not feeling an ounce of regret. When he finally makes it to the bar, he settles onto a stool and orders two shots of whatever the bartender thinks will make this night more bearable.

Pidge joins him after a few minutes of him silently sulking, sliding easily into the seat beside him and sighing loudly.

“I want to go home,” she says, laying her head on the bar top. Keith slides her his second shot and she sits up to down it before flopping back over.

“You wanted to come,” he reminds her. Pidge snorts.

“Lance bribed me,” she says, rolling her head to look at him. “He’s doing my laundry for a month.”

“You do hate laundry,” Keith mutters. He orders a second round and twists around to face the crowd. “Where’s Hunk?”

“He got sick,” Pidge explains, shaking her head with a fond smile. “He’s outside getting some air.”

Keith stifles a laugh and leans back against the bar. He’s not looking at anyone with particular interest, just trying to pass time. Pidge’s rattling off about Hunk’s adventure with some girl he met on the dancefloor when Keith sees _him_.

He swallows hard, his mouth becoming dry in mere seconds. The man is insanely broad, and the blue strobe lights seem to highlight his sharp jaw. He throws his head back and laughs, his teeth pearly white and practically glimmering. He’s dancing with a group of people, maybe his friends, his hips rolling sensually in a way that feels beyond sinful.

Keith’s fingers fumble around his shot glass. Pidge shoots him a concerned look before she follows his gaze, arching a brow when she finally sees what he’s staring at.

“Keith?”

“What?” he asks, downing the shots in quick succession. He’s starting to get a little buzz going and finds himself wondering just what the hell he’s drinking.

“Are you going to talk to six-foot-handsome, or should I?”

There’s a teasing smile on Pidge’s face, one that Keith would do just about _anything_ to wipe off.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, ignoring how she pinches his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” she coos mockingly, downright cackling when Keith swats her hand away. “Oh, shit. Don’t look now, but he’s coming this way.”

“No, he’s not,” Keith snaps, even as he feels his ears begin to grow warm.

Pidge snickers and slides out of her seat, holding up a beer Keith doesn’t remember her ordering.

“I’m going to check on Hunk,” she declares, waving as she begins to move through the crowd. “Don’t do anything Lance would do!”

Keith opens his mouth to reply, but his words shrivel up and die in his mouth when Pidge’s seat is occupied by the man from the dance floor. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a Greek god among mere mortals, and Keith finds himself struggling to keep his breathing in check.

“Hey,” the man greets, shooting him a heartthrob’s grin.

“Hey,” Keith says, feigning disinterest. For all he knows, this guy could just be a drunk asshole. Better to keep him away than to encourage him.

The man’s smile widens as he leans forward in his seat, the shitty club lights dancing off skin and making him glow.

“What’s your name?” he asks, in a voice that’s low and rich, melting off his tongue and worming its way into Keith’s ears. This close, the stranger smells like an intoxicating combination of expensive cologne and sweat, a combination that has Keith shifting subtly in his seat.

“I don’t think you need to know that,” Keith replies, tilting his chin defiantly. The stranger snickers.

“Guess not,” he concedes. He faces the bartender and orders a shot of vodka before he smirks over at Keith. “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

“Well, Shiro,” Keith says, stretching out languidly. “Your friends look like they miss you. Maybe you should head back.”

“But I don’t want to leave,” Shiro says, affecting a fake pout that shouldn’t make Keith internally melt as much as it does. “Unless…you _want_ me to?”

He arches a brow at Keith, all cockily as if he already knows the answer. Keith grits his teeth.

“What if I said I did?”

Shiro throws back his shot and reaches into his pocket, producing a single quarter. Keith scoffs at the sight of it.

“You’re going to buy me?” he asks, barely refraining from raising an unamused brow. “I’d like to think I’m worth more than that.”

“Tell you what,” Shiro says, scooting his stool closer. “We’ll let the coin decide. Heads, I walk away and leave you alone.”

Keith drums his fingers on the counter, considering it. “And tails?”

“You’re mine for the night,” Shiro says, voice bleeding with intent. Keith sinks his teeth into his lower lip. “So, what’ll it be?”

“Heads, obviously,” Keith answers without missing a beat, even though _tails_ is beginning to sound more and more like an attractive option.

“Then I’ll pick tails,” Shiro says, playfully rolling his eyes, “ _obviously_.”

He flicks the coin and lays it flat on the counter, making a big show of slowly revealing it. Keith swallows hard as he stares it, only daring to look at Shiro’s face once he feels the sudden ebb of _want_ in his gut fade.

“Tails it is,” Shiro says, looking like the cat that caught the mouse.

“You win,” Keith admits, leaning away. “So, what’s your plan?”

“You know how to dance?” Shiro asks, already whisking him to his feet. Keith snorts.

“Not at all.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Shiro says, and Keith coughs in surprise. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

He leads them to a relatively empty spot on the floor, sliding them between the throng of gyrating bodies. The lights flicker above them, shooting bright circles all throughout the room, and Keith finds himself staring down at their joined hands.

The song that’s playing now is different than the one he and Lance had danced to. It’s faster, and he swears he feels the bass vibrating in his teeth.

“It’s easy,” Shiro tells him, winding strong arms around Keith’s waist and pulling him close. He has nowhere to look but up at his face, nowhere to get lost in but Shiro’s gunmetal eyes. “You just have to feel the music.”

He slides his hands down, resting one on either side of Keith’s hips. Shiro forces them to move side and side, his own hips rolling against Keith’s like a wave. He can feel Shiro through his tight jeans, his eyes squeezing shut to preserve at least some semblance of control.

“Feel the music, huh,” Keith echoes, unable to keep the snark out of his voice. “You must be very talented.”

“Sure,” Shiro says. He turns Keith around and presses them together, front to back, hooking his chin over Keith’s shoulder to breathe his next words into his ear, “You seemed to think so.”

Keith’s eyes snap open. Shiro chuckles darkly, one hand sliding up Keith’s shirt to rest on his belly. He pushes Keith back into him and presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“God, baby.” He punctuates the words with a harsh thrust against Keith’s ass, which has his eyes rolling back into his skull. He throws an arm around Shiro’s neck and tries to chase the friction, throwing inhibition to the wind. “The second you walked in, I _wanted_ you.”

“You have me now,” Keith says then, twisting his fingers into the short hair at the back of Shiro’s head. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“Fuck,” Shiro hisses, digging thick fingers into Keith’s hips to force him around to crash their mouths together.

It’s nothing short of filthy. Their teeth clack together before Shiro sinks his into Keith’s lower lip, tugging until he weasels out a short moan. He releases him only to slide his tongue into Keith’s mouth, running over his teeth and gums before he all but sucks Keith’s tongue into his own mouth.

They pull away once oxygen becomes a necessity, staring at each other. Keith doesn’t want to know what he looks like. He already feels beyond wrecked. And yet…

“That all you got?” he says, chest heaving.

“Come,” Shiro says. When Keith doesn’t move, he grabs him around the wrist and all but growls out, “ _Now_.”

Keith stumbles after him on shaky legs. Shiro expertly leads them through the crowd, and Keith only realizes where they’re going once Shiro throws open the door and shoves him inside.

The bathroom is dimly lit and grimy, but he doesn’t even care when Shiro slams him back against the nearest wall and kisses him hard enough to wipe all coherent thoughts from his mind. It doesn’t last very long and Keith finds his hands drifting down towards Shiro’s belt, tugging insistently.

“Not here,” Shiro says, his voice husky as he pushes Keith into the nearest empty stall.

There’s barely enough space for them inside. Keith presses his back to the wall and stares up at Shiro, his mind racing. Shiro puts his hands on either side of his head and leans in, his eyes dark.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Yes,” Keith answers, without even thinking about it.

Shiro flashes him a smile before the heavy silence between them is broken by a clinking sound. Keith watches as Shiro’s pants fall down to the floor, swallowing hard as his eyes zero in on the bulge in his tight briefs. Shiro rolls them down teasingly, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach.

Keith licks his lips and ignores Shiro’s burning gaze.

With trembling fingers, Keith undoes his own belt. Their breathes mingle together in harsh gasps when Shiro reaches forward and roughly wraps his hand around both of their dicks and _tugs_. The friction is too much, not enough, and Keith’s head bangs back against the wall.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, one hand tangled in Shiro’s hand while the other slides up his shirt.

He digs his fingernails into taut muscle, feeling every one of Shiro’s breaths. He feels his stomach clench when Keith leans up to suck a dark mark into the side of Shiro’s neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, babe,” Shiro says, letting go of them to wrap one hand around Keith’s thigh and hitch it up onto his hip.

He yanks at Keith’s boot, sending it thudding against the floor. He drags the leg of Keith’s jeans down and off before he gets his hands underneath him and pulls him up.

Keith wraps his legs tightly around Shiro’s waist, letting him entirely support his weight. His back hits the wall again and he groans, tilting his head to the side for Shiro to plant hungry kisses along his shoulder and neck.

“You gonna fuck me?” he asks, grinding down frantically against Shiro.

“Nah, baby,” Shiro pulls back, his smile all teeth, “but I’m gonna make you wish I _did_.”

Keith groans, loud and unashamed, and scrambles to get a hand around his dick. Shiro moans at the sight and thrusts sloppily against him, crushing biting kisses to the hollow of Keith’s throat. Keith feels the sweat beading along his hairline and smirks at the wrecked expression on Shiro’s face.

“Too bad,” Keith grunts, spine arching dangerously as he feels Shiro slide between his thighs, thick and heavy, and fuck he _wants_ that. “I bet you’d feel amazing.”

Shiro moves harder against him then, dragging his nails along Keith’s ass. Keith squeezes his legs tighter around Shiro’s trim waist and is rewarded with a throaty groan that reverberates around the empty bathroom.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Shiro says, a cruel smirk on his face. “You’d like me fucking you till you forget your name.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith grits out, practically white-knuckling himself as pre-cum drips down his fingers. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Shiro whispers into his ear, tugging his earlobe between his teeth. “C’mon, baby. I wanna see it. Wanna see you lose yourself.”

“ _Fu-uck_ , Shiro, fuck, fuck please, please,” Keith whimpers, biting his lip hard enough to bleed as he feels himself nearing the edge. He grabs at Shiro’s shoulder and pulls him close, kissing him messily as he feels a knot begin to form in his stomach. “Make me cum. I want you to make me _cum_.”

“Fuck!” Shiro shouts, jaw clenching hard as he swats Keith’s hand away and replaces it with his own.

He doesn’t stop his harsh thrusts as he brings Keith over the edge, not even when Keith throws his head back and shouts at the ceiling, coming in thick spurts and covering Shiro’s hand. He’s too out of it to be embarrassed when Shiro spreads his legs wider and smears his cum between his thighs, making the slide of him between them far wetter.

“C’mon, Shiro,” Keith whispers, nails biting crescents into Shiro’s back. “Made me feel so _good_ , wanna feel you, wanna feel you on me, _come on_.”

Shiro moans, low and deep as he slams his hips against Keith’s one last time, riding out the aftershocks with slow thrusts that make Keith shiver in overstimulation.

It takes a few long moments for both of them to come down. Shiro gently lowers his feet to the ground, where he rips off a wad of toilet paper and wipes down the insides of his thighs. Keith watches him silently, gently rubbing his back until he’s done.

They dress in silence, hardly looking at each other. Keith stumbles to the sinks, where he washes his hands and surveys the damage. His hair’s more of a mess than usual, sticking up at odd angles and pressed flat to his neck with sweat. There’s one hell of a hickey blooming on his shoulder and his lips are kiss-swollen.

“Bad?” Shiro asks him teasingly, wetting his hand and raking it through his hair at the other sink.

Keith snorts. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Shiro says, shutting the tap off and facing him fully, “that you should give me your name now.”

“You sure don’t mince words,” Keith mutters. He crosses his arms and rests back against the counter. “What’s in it for me?”

Shiro tilts his head to the side, eyeing him curiously.

“Depends. What do you want?”

Keith shrugs, maintaining an air of nonchalance even as his heart hammers in his chest.

“Whatever you’ll give me.”

It must be the right answer, because Shiro beams at him.

“I can do that,” he promises, and Keith's toes curl in his shoes.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they fell madly in love lol


End file.
